There was no room on the small deck of the submarine to make a stand against the officers and crew of the Brazilian warship¹. In fact, the capture of the gold-seekers had been effected so suddenly that their astonishment² almost deprived them of the power to think clearly.  
At another command from the officer, who was addressed as Admiral Fanchetti, several of the sailors began to lead Tom and his friends toward the small boat.
 
"Do you feel all right, father?" inquired the lad anxiously, as he looked at his parent. "These scoundrels have no right to treat us so."
 
"Yes, Tom, I'm all right as far as the electric shock is concerned, but I don't like to be handled in this fashion."
 
"We ought not to submit!" burst out Mr. Damon. "Bless the stars and stripes! We ought to fight."
 
"There's no chance," said Mr. Sharp. "We are right under the guns of the ship. They could sink us with one shot. I guess we'll have to give in for the time being."
 
"It is most unpleasant, if I may be allowed the expression," commented Captain Weston mildly. He seemed to have lost his sudden anger, but there was a steely glint in his eyes, and a grim, set look around his month that showed his temper was kept under control only by an effort. It boded³ no good to the sailors who had hold of the doughty⁴ captain if he should once get loose, and it was noticed that they were on their guard.
 
As for Tom, he submitted quietly to the two Brazilians who had hold of either arm, and Mr. Swift was held by only one, for it was seen that he was feeble.
 
"Into the boat with them!" cried Admiral Fanchetti. "And guard them well, Lieutenant⁵ Drascalo, for I heard them plotting to escape," and the admiral signaled to a younger officer, who was in charge of the men guarding the prisoners.
 
"Lieutenant Drascalo, eh?" murmured Mr. Damon. "I think they made a mistake naming him. It ought to be Rascalo. He looks like a rascal⁶."
 
"Silenceo!" exclaimed the lieutenant, scowling⁷ at the odd character.
 
"Bless my spark plug! He's a regular fire-eater!" went on Mr. Damon, who appeared to have fully⁸ recovered his spirits.
 
"Silenceo!" cried the lieutenant, scowling again, but Mr. Damon did not appear to mind.
 
Admiral Fanchetti and several others of the gold-laced officers remained aboard the submarine, while Tom and his friends were hustled⁹ into the small boat and rowed toward the warship.
 
"I hope they don't damage our craft," murmured the young inventor, as he saw the admiral enter the conning¹⁰ tower.
 
"If they do, we'll complain to the United States consul¹¹ and demand damages," said Mr. Swift.
 
"I'm afraid we won't have a chance to communicate with the consul," remarked Captain Weston.
 
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Damon. "Bless my shoelaces, but will these scoundrels—"
 
"Silenceo!" cried Lieutenant Drascalo quickly. "Dogs of Americans, do you wish to insult us?"
 
"Impossible; you wouldn't appreciate a good, genuine United States insult," murmured Tom under his breath.
 
"What I mean," went on the captain, "is that these people may carry the proceedings¹² off with a high hand. You heard the admiral speak of a court-martial."
 
"Would they dare do that?" inquired Mr. Sharp.
 
"They would dare anything in this part of the world, I'm afraid," resumed Captain Weston. "I think I see their plan, though. This admiral is newly in command; his uniform shows that. He wants to make a name for himself, and he seizes on our submarine as an excuse. He can send word to his government that he destroyed a torpedo¹³ craft that sought to wreck¹⁴ his ship. Thus he will acquire a reputation."
 
"But would his government support him in such a hostile act against the United States, a friendly nation?" asked Tom.
 
"Oh, he would not claim to have acted against the United States as a power. He would say that it was a private submarine, and, as a matter of fact, it is. While we are under the protection of the stars and stripes, our vessel¹⁵ is not a Government one," and Captain Weston spoke¹⁶ the last in a low voice, so the scowling lieutenant could not hear.
 
"What will they do with us?" inquired Mr. Swift.
 
"Have some sort of a court-martial, perhaps," went on the captain, "and confiscate¹⁷ our craft. Then they will send us back home, I expect for they would not dare harm us."
 
............